


The Warmest Return

by Dana



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Domesticity, Established Relationship, F/M, M/M, fluffy monstrosity, there's two other stories I might end up writing because of this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 06:35:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5995129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dana/pseuds/Dana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's the Gene Genie, after all, and he's no coward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Warmest Return

**Author's Note:**

  * For [talkingtothesky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtothesky/gifts).



> Once upon a time I did a prompt request or two on tumblr and **talkingtothesky** gave me the following two for two different things: _Gene/Annie, 'Please stay.'_ and _Sam/Annie, 'Everything's going to be fine .'_ It kind of warped and mutated into this... fluffy monstrosity, and I'm not even kind of sorry. Beta thanks go to **Loz** , though I've done some editing since then! If anything is screwy, you can blame it on me. ♥

Gene knocks on the front door, and while there's a sense of immediate regret – a sort of ominous foreboding – it isn't that he's afraid. He's the Gene Genie, after all, and he's no coward. He's faced down the vilest of scum that Manchester's spit out in years, and walked away with his head held high and with the bastard in cuffs. He downs another swig from his flask before putting it away. Even if he _did_ do fear, there's just enough whisky-given courage coursing through him to keep him going.

The wet grey of early morning can't dampen his mood, let alone his resolve – he's equally unimpressed with the front door he's stood before as he is with his utter lack of fear at what awaits him beyond. He waits, waits a little bit more, rubbing at the back of his neck. He's not as drunk as he was an hour before, and while the fresh shot of whisky is running through him now, setting him alight, it does absolutely nothing for his already throbbing head.

There's finally some movement in the hall beyond the frosted glass panelling, and Gene stands at his full height, thumbs tucked into his belt, jutting his chin out. All in one fluid motion, he's put his best Guv-face on – he's ready to impress, or intimidate, whichever is needed more. The door opens, and Annie – hair somewhat messy from sleep, still bleary looking – pops her head around the corner, blinks, clearly surprised.

'Guv?'

All his whisky-given courage fails him, and he sags, body and expression both. 'Cartwright.'

She opens the door all the way, moves out onto the front-step, pulling the belt on her dressing gown to keep it tightly secured. The door's left open behind her, and Gene shoots a look into the dim beyond, before he settles his gaze back on her. She gives him a sad, sleepy little smile, covering her mouth with a hand as she yawns.

'Good morning.'

He nods in return, voice fled him. Regret chokes him, and Gene's left floating adrift in the midst of it, all because he'd been such a stubborn hard-arse the night before. If things had gone just a little differently, he wouldn't be out on the front-step at only half-seven in the morning, cold and empty, with what might just be the start of the worst hangover he's had in years.

'Guv, you look...' She frowns, reaches out to take him by the arm. He already feels like shit, and he must look just as bad, at least given Annie's concerned expression, raking over him, head to bloody toe. She tuts her tongue, shakes her head, and a half-dozen angry things poise at the tip of his own tongue – he's not a child, there's no need to fuss at him like that. Only, he's been acting like an utter twat, even Gene knows that. None of the things he might have said get spoken, not as Annie pulls him inside, shutting the door and getting his coat off of him. Letting himself get worked up over nothing doesn't seem to matter.

The thing is, it all happens faster than Gene can really register, Annie leading him about, because then his coat's hanging up on top of Sam's jacket which leaves Gene glaring at it, back at _her_ , his thoughts flipping right over onto _Sam_ , and his eyes follow that line of thought right up the stairs.

'Don't want to be here. Don't want to...' He tenses, but Annie's hand on his arm gets him to relax. No wonder Sam goes on about how she keeps him steady, because he can see it now – bloody hell, he can _feel_ it.

'Is...' he starts.

'He's sleeping,' Annie says, by way of explanation, looking as well as sounding somewhat more awake. He nods, and he feels foolish for just standing around, but she gives him another small smile and tilts her head to one side. He follows her from the front hall through the lounge, into the tidy little kitchen beyond. There's coffee on, and why Sam hasn't woken with the smell of that all about the house, Gene doesn't know. Annie pushes him towards the kitchen table, and he collapses into one of the equally tidy little chairs, hand closing about the glass of water she deposits before him.

He shoots a resentful glare back over his shoulder, back at Sam, who's asleep, apparently, or so he's been told.

'Thanks,' he grits out, head continuing to throb. 'You know, for not kicking me out on my arse.'

'Sam wouldn't forgive me.'

'You so sure about that? Maybe he'd cheer you instead.'

'You're both hot-headed, but Sam's a reasonable enough bloke – well, unless you keep pushing him, even _he_ has limits.'

'He bloody well does.' Gene runs a hand back through his hair, and wonders if Annie knows Sam's limits nearly as well as _he_ does. 'What's the verdict then? Should I stay or should I go?'

'You should stay.' Annie sighs. 'But I said that already, didn't I? Sam wouldn't want me making you leave until you'd had a chance to speak your mind.'

He watches her putter about the kitchen, and while his unease does start to settle – he smiles in spite of himself – his thoughts tug themselves backwards bloody persistently, back onto Sam. He's at a loss completely – he isn't angry at Annie, Gene's fully aware that none of this would be an issue if it wasn't for the sleeping man upstairs. Sam Tyler, who couldn't just be happy with Annie, who needed to drag Gene back into it. That Gene wanted it, that Annie was so bloody accommodating. He even knows that Annie should be pissed off at him, but that hasn't happened. It's all on Gene. He's vaguely drunk, and still somewhat angry at Sam – who is, as he keeps on reminding himself, upstairs. Asleep.

Only, is it an issue for either of them, or is it an issue because Gene's made it into one and won't let it go?

'I'm sorry,' he grits out, as Annie rubs his shoulders, drops a kiss onto the crown of his head. 'No good at this.'

'Really?' There's an edge to her words, sharp and sarcastic, and he grins because whatever life's got planned for her, Annie Cartwright gives back just as good as she's given. 'Never would have guessed _that_. Need something for your head?'

'More of your kisses,' he grumbles, eyes slipping shut, and she gives him just as he's asked. He sighs and leans back into her touch, her hands on his shoulders, her lips warm against his battered head. 'Good girl,' he groans, and she chuckles softly.

'Anything else?'

'Sit on me lap.' It isn't an order. He doesn't expect her to listen to him, especially after the fuss he caused the night before, but she does, legs so warm against his own, even with his kit in the way. His eyes snap open, and Annie – rosie-cheeked now – smiles back at him, straddling his thighs.

'Like this?'

'Good girl,' he says again. His head's really aching, and he ducks an arm around her, presses his forehead to her shoulder, breathes in something that has to be her scent – something lighter, floral – but Sam's as well, warmer, deeper, off her dressing gown. 'No good at at this.'

She's rubbing his back now, pressing kisses to his cheek. 'We're aware of that, Guv – but you try, and you try so hard. Sometimes, Sam... he asks big things of a person, yeah? Of course you'd need some time to adjust, to give it some thought.'

'Never bothered me before.' Gene pushes a kiss to her shoulder, even with the dressing gown getting in the way. He doesn't mind it, because it smells like Annie, like Sam. He presses another to the soft skin of her neck, feels her shiver, hears her sigh. 'I've watched you two before, going at it like rabbits.'

She sounds like she wants to laugh, smug and self-assured, her words meltingly warm. 'I love it when you... when you make make him forget his own name. How he gets so quiet when he's all shagged out.'

'Noticed that from the start – might have even been the biggest deciding factor in getting me to shag him some more.' He chuckles, some of her mood rubbing off on him. 'But...'

'But it's different, yeah?' Light pressure, just one finger, at his chin, tipping his head back – he's got no choice but to make eye contact, because he's the Gene Genie, and as he's already mentioned, he doesn't _do_ afraid. Not of bastard scum, not even his ex-missus' hag of a mother. Not Annie Cartwright, though maybe, for once in his life, he should. 'You and me.'

He nods, and his throat's gone tight, gone dry. 'No Sam between us.'

Her eyes light, and her grin goes devious. 'Oh, I'm sure we'll work up to that.'

'Tart,' he snaps, but it's fond – and she knows it. 'Not what I meant.' Still, he already knows Sam would _love_ it, being mashed between the two of them. Gene knows he'd love it too.

Annie's stroking his face, all over, fingers pushing back into his hair. She's kissing him, not softly, but deep instead, tongue pushing its way inside – and Gene lets her in, the way he should have the night before, and how he knew it was Annie who should be raging at him, and not him angry with Sam.

'I'm sorry,' he says, when she lets his mouth go. She's still stroking his face, her expression so soft, and Gene doesn't deserve _her_ , let alone her and Sam _both_.

'So you keep saying,' she says, sharply, but just as obviously – yet again – fond.

'I do want it to work.' He can't even blame it only being too drunk to know better, but if he's questioned later, he can always lie. His empty gut is begging for a bit more whisky, and he's already said too much. It makes him feel like he's gone and done it, finally, he's cocked it up for good. He tenses up, and Annie's even more observant than Sam can be, so she notices, and she nods. She presses a kiss to his forehead, hands stroking down his neck, warm, soft, steady. 'I do. He means the world to me, just... bloody hell.' He buries his face in her shoulder again, shuts his eyes. 'Don't tell him that, please.'

She chuckles, just as softly, just as warm, presses more kisses into his hair, and he's being touched so much and it's not sexual at all, but he's never felt so content in his life, so free. The pounding in his head has been reduced to a dull, throbbing roar. He could almost live with this, he thinks.

'Everything's going to be fine. You know that, right? It's a big change for the three of us – well, maybe not for Sam – but we're gonna be fine.'

He huffs out a laugh, soft as well, hands dropping down to squeeze her arse. He needs to grab hold of it – of something – because it's not dignity he's lost by admitting these things, by coming to her in this state. It's something else. In a way – and he's only thinking this because he spends too much time around Sam – it's like he's gained strange and nameless instead.

Which means he lifts his head and kisses her, hard, the way she'd started kissing him before. There's no holding back, and he's burning hot all over, and when he's finally able to speak again, he's practically growling. 'I want to make up for last night. Let's go on upstairs and wake our Sleeping Beauty, eh?'

She grins, and chuckles, and the look she shoots over his shoulder says more than words alone. There's heat up the back of his neck, and Gene hears the soft footsteps crossing the room, how Sam's arms go about his shoulders, Sam's face nuzzling into his hair. 'You came back.' He sounds sleepy, but the grip he's got on Gene is definitely _awake_.

'Where else could I go?'

There's a fair few places he could have ended up, but none of them could be so warm, so accepting. Annie wriggles free, and Sam kisses his neck, then his cheek, smiling as Gene twists his head about so Sam's got access to his lips. He kisses Gene the way Gene had kissed Annie, with a specific wild edge. He wonders if Annie feels the same way, maybe he ought to just up and ask her – because whenever Sam kisses him, he's almost certain that the daft bastard's got it in his head that it's their last kiss, _ever_. Sam always kisses with more than his all, making up for any possible transgression, imagined or not. And it's Sam, so some of the blame really is on him. Just, not at all of it, and not all of the time. Not this time, most definitely.

Gene's panting, afterwards, but Sam's already wanting to talk. 'You're staying, right? Please stay.' Sam nuzzles his cheek, and Gene lumbers up and out of the chair and grabs Sam up in a bear hug, crushingly close. Sam laughs, startled, but wraps his arms around Gene once more, and Gene even goes so far as to spinning him around. Gene's laughing when he lets Sam down, and Sam kisses the tip of his nose, running his hands back through Gene's hair.

'If you'll have me,' Gene says, because it's the only thing that fits. 'I'm sorry,' he adds, as a concession, and Sam's expression softens. He should be shouting at Gene, not being so bloody accepting, but Sam never makes as much sense as Gene would like. A few times at least, Gene's been glad of it.

'You're forgiven.' Sam strokes his hands down Gene's arms, nuzzles his face up into the crook of neck and shoulder. 'If only because, you know... you came back.'

Gene nods, nearly at a loss for words – _nearly_. He shudders, groans, Sam's hands squeezing his wrists, slipping down to grip his hands, Sam's mouth damp and warm, pressed up much too close. Sam slips right back into kissing him, smoother now, just as heady. And Gene, because there's been too much drinking and not enough sleeping, is dizzy when Sam finally pulls back, licking at his lips. 

'Thank you,' Sam says, and Gene gives the slightest nod.

'Right, well – you're welcome.'

Sam leans back, and Gene misses him immediately, and the look he shoots at Gene is sharp, and critical, and hopelessly in love, all at the same time – how it says that much, without Sam even needing to open his mouth, Gene's not sure he'll ever understand. It has something to do with what makes Sam _tick_ ,and that goes beyond Gene's realm of expertise – though, for the most part, he's got Sam sorted out. Still, he counts it as a blessing, seeing as how his head has stepped it up a notch and started beating itself open from the inside out. A moment of peace and quiet won't go amiss.

It gives him pause, and he returns the look, confused more than critical, and perhaps just as hopelessly in love. He's putting a few things together, as Sam reaches out to stroke his cheek, still squeezing the one hand he's got a hold of: they had to have talked it out, him and Annie, after Gene had stormed out the night before. And for an after-pub night in general, they'd had a good enough start – there'd been laughing, and plenty of kissing, and touching, and it could have been so much _more_. It was building up to better, to easy going, working out the cricks and the kinks. Only then, Gene had to be the bastard – the one who had a problem – the one who had to throw it all away. He'd left Sam and Annie high and dry, had stormed out and driven away, and would have allowed Sam the punch or two he felt like throwing, seeing as Gene's the one who'd come crawling back, who wanted to be forgiven. His behaviour would have warranted that, at least. Only he's being too understanding, the way _Annie's_ been too understanding, and Gene really doesn't deserve them, either of them, does he? He sighs, face sagging against Sam's hand, pressing a kiss to his palm.

'Bloody hell...'

'Coffee?' Gene blinks, pulling away from Sam's touch. Annie knows how they both take their coffee, and he doesn't even feel like saying anything snotty about tea being more patriotic, and it's no surprise to see she's got three mugs at the ready. 'Got some paracetamol here, too.'

'Bloody hell, Cartwright, you're a godsend.'

She smirks, holding a mug out to him, the pills in the palm of her other hand. 'I know – but keep on telling me, please. It's good to be reminded.'

He rolls his eyes, but it's Sam who says: 'You've known her longer – has she always been this cheeky?'

'Mostly, yeah – there's some extra sarcasm since you popped up into our lives, but nothing I can't handle.' He doesn't even need to tell Sam that he'd wanted to promote her even _before_ Sam had been around, but he was wary of how it might might look – how someone might take it the wrong way, and ruin Annie's reputation at the same time. Sam, not caring how he complicated things, had helped that right along – taking the pressure off Annie, in the process, and at least some of it off Gene himself. It's that same feeling, from before, only it's not angry in the least – he's just feeling grateful, in a rare, thankful mood. There's countless words poised at the tip of his tongue, and this time, a few of them slip free.

'Always thought you'd make a good detective.'

Her cheeks go pink, and her smile's sharply sincere. 'Thank you.'

Gene looks sideways at Sam, and even he's grinning like a daft fool. 'So what happened, happened – and not just because of you.'

'Right, because I'm not actually the centre of the world.' Sam's mouth quirks up at one corner, he's trying not to laugh.

'Said that before, haven't I?' Gene's voice goes gruff, and Sam's grin softens.

'Yeah, I'm pretty sure you have.'

The response leads Gene to rolling his eyes. He tosses his pills back, as well as a hot shot of coffee, enough to wash it all down. He stomps out into the lounge, not caring whether or not they follow – and of course they do follow. Gene slumps down onto the sofa, toes one loafer off and then the other, stretches his legs out in order to prop his feet on the coffee table. Annie's the one who's grinning now. 'Making yourself at home?'

He looks up at her, his head pounding, his heart thumping along the way. 'You're the one who let me in. Could have just turned me out on my arse, eh?' He's made amends already, and they both want him here – they're all on the same page, of that he's mostly certain.

She sits down to his right, tucked in close. 'Couldn't do that to you. Not today, at least.' The stretched out leg thing isn't as comfortable as he'd thought it'd be, at least with her so close it's like she's ready to climb right onto his lap, so he pulls them back, bare feet thumping as they hit the floor.

Sam's clutching his mug of coffee in both hands, grinning behind the rim, not yet decided if he's standing or sitting. 'I, er, since you're staying, and all, and it's Saturday, and...' He's mumbling, which never is good. He's also blushing, acting virginal, _shy_ , when they both know he's really not either of those things.

'Oh, out with it already, Gladys,' he snaps, then sighs, not that it's really any bother. 'I'll make up for last night, if that's what all this blushing and mumbling's leading up to – set your pervy mind at rest, does it?'

Sam's grin is brighter, and Annie tucks an arm about Gene's waist, squeezes, and yanks his attention back over as she kisses him – right there, for Sam to see. And Sam, oh, sees. Gene's a bit dizzy, afterwards, from the kiss, though some of it's from knowing he's being watched. He looks at Sam, who's still looking at the both of them, cheeks even pinker, mouth hanging open.

'I love you both.'

'Yeah, yeah, so you keep saying.' Sam had already been on the move, setting his coffee down, and once he takes Gene's mug and places it beside his own, Gene's arm shoots out and he grabs Sam's wrist, pulling him down. 'Now it's your turn.'

'But we...'

'Order's an order, Tyler,' Gene snaps, growling. 'Give the lady some attention, she deserves it.' Sam rolls his eyes, and he starts to lean forward to kiss Annie, one hand braced on Gene's shoulder, the other on his thigh. Only then Annie's tugging him forward, sharply, instead, and Sam's eyes go wide and round as he sinks into the kiss, hand slipping a little before he catches himself – he rather nearly tumbled into Gene's lap. Not that Gene cares, not that he'd have minded, because the seat he's been left with is better than front row. It's Sam relaxing into kissing Annie, one of Annie's hands resting at the back of Sam's neck, Annie's eyes closed already, and Sam's only just now slipping shut.

It's hot, too bloody much, and there's sweat dripping down the back of Gene's neck now, heat pooling at the small of his back, shirt sticking to skin. The pounding in his head takes a dozen steps backwards as his trousers tighten, almost painfully so.

'Bloody hell,' he breathes out, and Annie shifts about, knees to his leg, mouth attached to Sam's, and did Sam just _whimper_? By God he did, but Annie keeps up the attack, bordering on relentless, absolutely in control of what's going on.

When Annie pulls away, lips glistening, Sam surges forwards, clumsy and urgent, draping himself across Gene's lap, one knee digging hard at the in seam along Gene's inner thigh. Gene grunts, and Annie chuckles, low and throaty, pressing a finger to Sam's nose, not pushing, just holding him still. 'Oh.' He blinks, blushing, shifting backwards, still as awkward, hardly as urgent. The pressure's gone from Gene's thigh, and at least a quarter of the tension in his trousers has likewise fled the scene.

'Oi,' Gene growls, makes a lazy swipe at him, one Sam artfully dodges by sitting back, tucking his legs up underneath himself as he leans into the comfort of the cushions. 'Get back over here.'

'Not my turn anymore,' Sam replies, and the words are innocent enough, though the perverse intent is delightfully clear, his hands dropping to clutch at each other, right on his lap.

'That so?' Gene rolls the words round on his tongue, slants a look to his right, to Annie, who's blushing and smiling. 'You'll do then,' he says, grinning, and she's grinning just as wide as he wraps one arm tight around her, pulls her right onto his lap. It's warm, it's perfect, and it's what they both want, after all – better he give it to them, after he'd already caused such a delay.

She giggles, softly enough, and thumps his chest lightly, rubbing the spot right afterwards, then giving a soft tug on his tie. 'You think you're all that?'

'Must be,' he replies, and shrugs, and dips his face in to kiss her bare neck. 'Suppose I wouldn't be here if you thought otherwise, yeah?' He's baiting her, or maybe Sam, hoping to ruffle either of his two birds' feathers – though, really, for all the teasing, he knows Sam's a man. All Annie does is laugh, and shiver as he mouths at her, lips roaming. He may be in need of a shave, but she groans, tipping her head back. She's not the only one who's moaning – Sam, to the side, is making a few choice, indecent sounds of his own.

'Oh God.' There's a soft groan. 'He's a bastard sometimes, did I tell you?'

Annie wraps an arm about Gene's shoulders, braces her other hand against the middle of his chest, fingers knotting around the tie. 'Known him longer than you have, Sam.'

There's a pause, and a soft chuckle. 'Yeah, you're right. But he shagged me first.'

'Hmm.' She makes a thoughtful noise, nearly a moan. 'Well, you're right about that.'

Gene grumbles, rubs his stubbly cheek against her neck, hears her shiver, the catch of her breath. He glares at Sam, gives Annie's waist a tight squeeze, keeps on glaring, even when all Sam does is smile, hands folded neatly on his lap. 'You happy over there?' Sam nods, smiles that much more. 'Oh – right. Not your turn.'

Sam sits back, nodding, licking his lips. 'I like watching you both. It's... it's special, okay? It's...' And he's really blushing now, unable to make eye contact, probably having been on the way to saying something silly and sappy, and isn't that the bloody most daft thing _ever_? Which is something, it honestly is, seeing as how Sam says bloody daft things all the time.

'Oi – _Tyler_. Unless the coffee table's honestly that bloody interesting, the show's over here.'

Sam's attention jerks back up, and he squirms a bit, smiling, cheeks still pink. 'Go on then.' It's a whisper, and it's a perfectly reasonable request. 

'Let's give our boy what he wants, eh?'

Annie nods, running her fingers back through his hair, stretching one arm out across Gene's lap – one of Sam's arms shoot out in return, and he squeezes Annie's hand, tightly, as Gene puts his full attention back on the woman wriggling in his lap. Between the two of them, they really are more than he could ever, in a hundred lives even, ever deserve. He's going to have to try hard to repay them for all they've given him, what's yet to be exchanged – and why shouldn't he start right now? He licks a short stripe across warm, bare skin, starts to tug at the belt of her dressing gown, needing to open it slowly, do it right. He nips at the spot below her ear, where the skin is soft, and Annie gasps, and it's perfect, so perfect, how could it be any better?

Not by having his stomach grumble, that's for starters, so loud it's nearly a roar. 

He groans, and she wriggles about, disentangling herself from his grasp, though not actually moving to stand up. Sam's laughing, and they're not holding hands any more – apparently, Gene's empty tummy has ruined the mood. 'Guess we ought to take care of you before we _take care_ of things, what do you think?' Annie's smiling, tugging on his already loosened tie. 'Some breakfast, perhaps? A nice shower? Ohhhh yes, doesn't that sound lovely? I think it does.'

'We'll just get messy afterwards,' Gene mutters, annoyed, Sam laughing as he shifts his legs out from beneath him, getting up and hurrying on into the kitchen. Annie kisses Gene's cheek, his lips, lazy, languid, perfectly content. Sam's stopped, is watching from the door. Of course, Gene only sees that when Annie finally lets him go. He really could do with something warm to eat, but that doesn't stop him from wanting all of it at once.

'We've the whole day, you know.' That's Sam, smiling, smug, leaning against the arch of the opened door. 'Tomorrow, as well, unless you've some other plans.'

He considers his reply, Annie tightening her belt as she finally moves to rise. His arm darts out and he snags the length of cloth, pulling her back down and kissing her for all she's worth. They want him here, and he wants to be here, so where's the harm in it, really? It is a non-issue, that's what it is.

'Does that mean you're free?' 

That's Annie, dazed and smiling, afterwards, and Gene gives her one final squeeze, meaning all of it.

He grins at her, and then up at Sam. 'You really do have me all figured out.'


End file.
